


Ethanol Seduction

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, i-am-not-a-homosexual john egbert, let's be honest this will probably be explicit by the time i've finished it, sassy bro strider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:26:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an idea stolen from the brojohn tag by tumblr user <a href="http://poseidonreboot.tumblr.com/post/55074150789/i-think-only-like-oregon-and-new-jersey-have-the">poseidonreboot</a></p><blockquote>
  <p>i think only like oregon and new jersey have the whole full service gas station thing going on?</p>
  <p>w/e what if bro worked at one of those kinds of gas stations and john pulled up to get the whole filled up on gas, windows wiped deal</p>
  <p>and john is sitting in the car as bro wipes the windows and bro keeps trying to be sexy and it’s just really ridiculous and stupid and all he’s accomplishing is getting his shirt covered in suds</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Ethanol Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> wHOA another brojohn fic?? from moi?? can't even believe it whoa i bet u didn't even realize that brojohn was a thing that i like!!!

The smell of gas always made him feel nauseous. Even when he was a kid sitting in the backseat as his father drove in to fill up the tank, all the windows shut tightly and John locked in the car, the smell somehow seeped through the cracks and filled his nostrils. He would plug his nose and grimace and his father would chuckle as he held the nozzle in place.

Not much had changed since then. The only difference now as he pulled into the empty gas station, his car running on fumes, was the location.

No matter how long he lived in Portland, he would never get the hang of letting someone else pump his gas. It felt… _wrong_. After living there for six months, he was still unsure of the proper procedure. It didn’t help that each gas station had a different setup than the last.

There were yellow arrows painted on the pavement that he didn’t notice until he was facing the opposite direction of the one in front of him. He backed up, nearly hitting a pedestrian, and swerved through the fuel islands until he was facing the same direction as the arrows. Content with his decision, he shut his engine off alongside pump #7. The orange-vested torso of an attendant made it’s way towards him, leaning down until a face came into view outside of his window.

"Hey." The face spoke. It was framed by sandy red hair and wore the oddest sunglasses John had ever seen. “You don’t actually have to follow the arrows, y’know."

John frowned. “Oh."

_This transaction is already off to a great start._

The attendant played with a pen tucked beneath his cap, pulling it in and out as his shades stared down at John. “How much gas do you want?"

John mentally chided the attendant for his curtness, “can I get twenty regular, please?"

"Yeah." The attendant nodded his head, his pointed shades glinting in the sun.

John looked up at him and smiled. The attendant looked back down at John, his eyebrows perched below his hairline expectantly.

"Uh," John said.

The attendant’s eyebrows went back down, hidden behind his shades, and he sighed. “It’s a pre-pay system, dude. You gotta pay before I pump the gas."

"Oh!" John squirmed in his seat, reaching down into his back pocket. He pulled out a few crumpled bills and unfolded them in his lap. “Here," he said, holding a bill out to the attendant. The attendant continued to stare down at him.

"Cash is inside."

"Oh." John frowned again. He tested the air outside with his hand. "Um, if I use my card, can I pay outside?"

The attendant made a noise and his face twitched in a way that suggested his eyes were rolling behind those opaque lenses. "Yeah," he grunted out.

"Okay, cool," John fumbled through the contents of his bag until he found his wallet and handed the attendant his card. "Um, just give me ten. Actually, no, twenty. Wait -- could you just fill it up?"

The attendant stared at him. John was sure that if he could see through those sunglasses, there would be a pair of very annoyed eyes staring back at him.

"You want a fill?"

John nodded, smiling in an attempt to lighten the mood.

The attendant ignored his attempts.

John cleared his throat as he watched the attendant run his card. "Has it been busy today? You must get a lot of customers when the weather's nice like this."

The other man shrugged, handing the card back to John. "It's been on and off."

"Oh." John nodded. After setting the nozzle in place, he folded his arms and leaned back against the pump, his shades pointed down towards John. "This is kind of weird to me! I'm from Washington, so I'm used to pumping my own gas. I bet you're glad it's like this in Oregon though, right? I mean...since it's, like, your job."

He sighed and readjusted himself against the pump. John wondered if his eyes were shut behind those shades. "'Sjust the law, I don't really give a shit either way. I'd find a job elsewhere if I didn't have this one."

"That sure is optimistic!" John said. The attendant pushed the bridge of his shades up slightly and they glinted in the sunlight again. "Those are pretty interesting sunglasses you have there! You kind of look like the mom from Johnny Bravo, except, y'know, manlier. And I think hers were blue."

The shades stared down at John and the face behind them twisted. "Momma? From Johnny Bravo?"

"Yeah?" His tone sent a jolt through John's stomach. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you -- "

The attendant shook his head and John realized that the out-of-place expression forming on his face was a _smile_. "Nah, you didn't offend me. Caught me off guard, ya. People say a lot of shit about my shades, but they never compare me to _Momma from Johnny Bravo_."

John grinned back, happy to have finally found some common ground with this stranger. The nozzle clicked, indicating that John's tank had reached capacity. The attendant removed the nozzle and tore the receipt from the pump.

"Here ya go, kid," he said, holding the receipt out to John.

"Thanks! And here." John held out two dollar bills, folded together. The attendant's unnerving stare returned, fixed on John's outstretched hand.

"What's that?" The attendant asked, his head tilted in a way so John could see a flash of gold eyes beneath those lenses.

"A tip?" John tried smiling.

The shades seemed to be glaring at him again. “You give a tip to the guy who pumps your gas?"

"Um." Had he actually offended this guy? Maybe it was just a slow reaction, like with the Momma comment. “Yeah, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Like with waitresses, or hairdressers, or — "

"Or strippers?" The man interjected.

"Uh." Oh. “I guess…"

"So basically," he had a hand at his waist now, his fingers tapping against the neon material in an agitated manner, “you equate this profession to pole dancing."

"No! I wasn’t trying to — "

"Okay, thanks for the tip," the attendant said, all the venom gone from his voice as he snatched the bills out of John’s hand.

John stared. “Oh, um, okay."

"Want your windows cleaned?" His tone was friendly as he asked, it sounded almost like a proper customer service voice. John was almost too surprised to answer.

"Sure — "

"Great!"

The man was gone for a fraction of a second. He reappeared on the passenger side door, squeegee in one hand and a paper towel in the other. John watched, unsure of where he _should_ be looking as a stranger wiped down his windows. The attendant smirked at him as he finished the passenger side window.

"Y’know, I used to be a stripper," the attendant said, an air of pride to his voice.

"Oh, really? Uh, how — how was that?" Oh god, asking the attendant about his past profession as a stripper? What was with this conversation? Egbert, _why_?

"It was a lot of fun, actually." The attendant had moved to the driver’s side now and was working on the backseat window. “I still remember a lot of my old moves. Sometimes when I’m pumping gas or washing windows, I like to practice, see if I can still pull 'em off."

"Oh…"

"Do you wanna see?"

The attendant was at John's open window now, leaning down and peering inside.

"Um...see what?"

"My _moves_."

"Oh -- that's not -- "

"Relax, kid," he reached in the car to pat John's arm once and then disappeared again. In moments, he was standing in front of John's car, swaying back and forth to an imaginary beat. He started to move his hips and John's hand immediately reached up to cover his mouth.

"Oh my fucking god," he whispered into his palm.

The attendant was biting his lips now, running his hands up and down his body until they reached the zipper of his safety vest. He unzipped it slowly, his shades pointed directly at John and John cursed into his palm. The vest came down forcefully, stopping at the attendant's elbows. He started walking forward and John gasped and grabbed onto the steering wheel when the attendant began to _climb onto the front of John's car_. He crawled forward, wiggling his hips and shoulders as he moved.

"Um -- what are you doing?!" John yelled, his fingers straining against the steering wheel.

The attendant ignored him. He kept muttering phrases like "You like that?" and "Fuck yeah." and John's face only grew redder and redder. He slapped both hands to his face and slid down in his seat. _Why is this happening to me why is this happening to me why is this happening to me --_

John felt the car shift and peeked between his fingers. Gripped tightly between the attendant's teeth was the handle of a squeegee. He waggled his eyebrows as he used his mouth to drag the squeegee across John's windshield. John buried his face in his hands again.

Moments later, he felt the car shift. He was almost afraid to look, but he splayed his fingers enough to see the attendant strike a pose. He was a few feet in front of John's car, in the same spot he had begun his...performance. He held a drenched towel high above his head, turned his head towards John, and lowered his shades with the other hand. John's face flamed up once again as the attendant winked at him. The shades went back up and the attendant reached his other hand up, wringing out the wet rag above his head, soaking the cap he wore and the uniform beneath his vest.

" _Oh my god._ " John was frozen from shock, staring at the attendant as he pulled his cap off, running a hand through his now damp hair. He replaced the cap and turned to John.

"What'd ya think?" He stared at John expectantly.

Something clicked and John was unfrozen, his hands moving the car into reverse as his feet slammed on the gas. He backed out from between the fuel islands, then sped forward, dodging the attendant who still stood there, watching and waving as John drove away.

"Come back soon!"

It was then that John decided he would never return to that gas station.

**Author's Note:**

> guess how many times i had to take a break from writing this because i was laughing too hard


End file.
